Dovahkiin: Lost
by Grady the Asha'man
Summary: The Dragonborn winds up in a strange world after committing suicide. This place is full of ninjas, treachery, and...kids in orange jumpsuits?


Dovahkiin: Lost

Dovahkiin was lost. There was simply no way around it. He had no clue where he was. Although, to be fair, this isn't necessarily his fault. He was simply enjoying some free time in his home, Hjerim, for the day. There were no adventures, no quests, no dragon hunting, no experimenting with magic, just relaxation. After all, if anyone deserved a little break, it was the Dragonborn.

Aram Paendragen left Hjerim at noon that day. The sun was still out, shining brightly despite the cold weather. After all, he was a very busy man - er...Elf. Most Dunmer didn't live outside the Gray Quarter, but Aram did. But then again, Dunmer didn't fight dragons and save the world and kill Divines either...but Aram did. That's right. The somewhat scrawny Dunmer mage with only a hundred years of experience fought dragons, slaid Alduin, saved the world again, stopped Miraak, and even did it while grinning. Except for the Miraak part.

_I don't think anyone could smile in that sociopath's presence, _he thought angrily. For all his bluster and theatrics, however, Aram is far from perfect. _So many dead, because I was too weak. Even more, because I was too strong._ And strong he was. Even though he was a mage, his frame packed enough muscle to take down an armed Companion with his fists. Although, he didn't like to talk about that incident involving Whiterun's local warriors. Too be honest, the Dragonborn was simply too strong for his world. Any experience in combat simply felt shallow to him. Years of life-or-death experiences and quickly evolving draconic powers ensured that Dovahkiin would never feel a challenge from combat.

_Until Miraak, that is. _Solstheim's sort-of-local sociopath was the only time where the Dragonborn could say that he could have lost a fight. And if he did lose, well, there would be hell to pay. Miraak's strength and speed were not as great as Aram's, but his ruthlessness tipped the balance in his favor. He didn't care about who got hurt to give him the power he desired.

The red-eyed mage had to fight the urge to spit on the ground.

Many friends and even his lover died in his presence. Scratch that, _all_ of them died because of him. Lydia, his housecarl and best friend, died protecting him from the Dark Brotherhood after he killed their leader, Astrid. Tolfdir, dead after enemies found out that Aram made the College his main home. Assassins managed to get past all wards and traps the College contained, but were stopped by his Master Wizard at the cost of his own life. Even Meeko, that loveable mutt, died protecting him.

But the thing was, Dovahkiin just didn't understand it. He was far stronger than anyone living on Nirn. He didn't need a housecarl to watch his back. A Master Wizard to defend his home. He didn't need any of that. But, these people made their choices anyway.

_There's nothing here for me now. No home to rest in. No bed to sleep in. No family. No friends._ He didn't belong on Nirn, in Mundus. His heart now beckoned to Aetherius, the immortal plane. And so Dovahkiin walked, and walked, and then walked some more. Before he knew it, he was away from Windhelm and at Solitude. _What a fitting name._ The savior of man and elf-kind walked to the Castle Dour. As usual, there were two Imperial soldiers standing guard.

"I would ask that you give me your dagger, soldier." Dovakiin looked at the soldier with his "Legate Stare."

"Right away, sir."

"Good, carry on."

And away from Solitude did he walk, but this time with a goal in mind. Using his draconic speed, the sprinted out of Solitude and ran to one of his favorite towns, Ivarstead. He didn't stop to talk, just sprinted up the 7,000 steps in what some though was the blink of an eye. And into High Hrothgar he went.

His death was waiting for him.

Not even the Greybeards could see him when he moved at his full speed. He simply went right past them and right up to the Throat of the World. There, his only living friend waited for him.

"I have been expecting you for some time, Dovahkiin."

It didn't really surprise Aram that Paarthurnax knew that he would be coming. What surprised him was that he knew of the Dragonborn's intentions.

"Before you ask, I understand, and accept what you have to do."

"Why, no one else would understand, why would you know about my longing for death, Elder?"

"No one that you know has my years of experience in the field of self-redemption and meditation. If this is what you feel you have to do, then so be it. I can't say that I agree with it, but I understand. Akatosh embrace you, Dovahkiin."

And those were the last words Dovahkiin heard before he shoved the dagger into his sternum.

Gasping, Aram sat up from the ground. He looked around, wary of his unfamiliar surroundings. He could spot a town nearby, it looked rather small, and mostly beaten down. He then looked at the geography of the place. _This is unlike anywhere in Tamriel._ The ground was mostly barren, but there was a large lake near the town. He suddenly read the sign that was next to him the whole time.

It read:

Welcome to Nami no Kuni.


End file.
